


The Complexities of a Cat's Curiosity

by Jinxofthedesert



Series: Curiosity Kill the Cat, but Satisfaction Brought it Back [1]
Category: Naruto, Naruto Shippuden
Genre: Angst, Bullying, Canon Divergence, F/M, Harem, Hurt/Comfort, I suck at tags, Kittens, May unconsciously wants people in her life, May's in for a wild ride, Mentions of betrayal, Romance, Sexual References, Swearing, belief that they're simply 'kittens', men turned animal, there will be a book 2
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-03
Updated: 2017-02-03
Packaged: 2018-09-18 08:05:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9375776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jinxofthedesert/pseuds/Jinxofthedesert
Summary: "Come to the party, she said. It'll be fun, she said. Liar, I say." When May goes to a party on behalf of a friend, she finds herself coming into contact with a group of kittens that-unbeknownst to May-follow her home. Yeah, they bring some positive aspects to her average life, but all positives have a negative side. -Rewritten version-





	

 

**-Part 1-**

**Before Alice got to Wonderland, she had to Fall.**  

* * *

 12/13/- -

Friday

* * *

 

There are times where I find myself wondering what a normal day could be elaborated as. I can only assume that it's similar to that of a river's course. Quick, seemingly slow at some points, all in all, a natural part of life. But, in truth, we all have diverse views and normality is no different. To one, a day at home, looking after children, would be ordinary. Others-just to contrast the former-might possibly find ordinary at the head of a gang.

This is why I can say, right here and now, that _this_ is a normal occurrence for me. What, you may ask? What is my normality? Well, it's the young man who is currently coming my direction. Back straight with purpose, lips curled up into that deadly trademark smirk, and eyes brimming with mischievous intent for me in particular. To a random passerby, he'd be quite the looker, curly chestnut hair that casually fell around his erotically toned face. His simple gait screamed sex appeal and that piercing green gaze could kill. The picture of a good-natured college student, much like myself, the exception being that gleam in his eyes. I wasn't lying when the word mischievous was brought up, however, the closer he gets, there's a sinister sheen definitely evident. The comfortable ten feet between our bodies are subtracted and my palms are sweating, heartbeat erratic.

He is suddenly stopping before me, towering, simply an unstoppable force that can't help but repel my very being. I know my back is subconsciously pushing against the wall-desiring to escape, hands clamped tightly at my sides, trying-with every fiber of my body-to contain nerves of steel. He cannot know how much this actually gets to me. I'd lose.

"You're cowering again." Damn it, he'd noticed. To my horror, my peripheral instantly picked up that the hallway was empty. The other college students had already fled the classroom, going on with their lives, having places to go and people to see. We were alone. Damn him, he always knew. How? Did he just creep around, watching for the perfect time? No . . . he was just intelligent, something I'd found rare with other people on the football team. But this quarterback, this Jackson, was formidable, so much so that-what was coming-was my normality. "Do I really-" Jackson spaced out his words in a leisure fashion, placing his hands on either side of my face-palms to the walls-and leaned down. Our foreheads were no more than mere inches apart. The smell of cigarettes and thick cologne washed over my senses like a splash of cold water, he was so close, _too_ close. "- _frighten_ you that much?" He stressed the words, lapping up the emotions that crawled over my face. Fear, anger, then, it fell away to a blank slate as my eyes met his, colorless. "Ha," he chuckled, a low rumble in his throat. "How problematic-"

"Who said I was frightened, you're the one preying on innocent young girls. I think I'm not the one with the problem." A twitch from his left eye. Score one for me.

"And you've got a death wish, as usual. Preying on innocence, hmph, sure. But you're not in that category . . . that would mean interest in you." That smile fell, transforming into a sneer as he gave my body a look over, meeting my gaze with a roll of his eyes. The distaste was predictable, I wasn't a stick figure after all, far from it. "And we both know, that would never happen. I don't fall for shy little bitches, like you." The label made me freeze and I fought to tear my eyes away from his vast green ones. But all I could see, smell, and even think was him. With such close proximity, it was nearly impossible to focus on anything else.

"B-Back away, please." Each word was thick, catching and tearing at my tongue, like a blade. I licked my lips, trying to get rid of the heaviness, inwardly kicking myself for saying _please_. As if he'd listen to _that_ of all things.

Jackson cocked his head to the side, peering at me with narrowed eyes, taking in my form. I could see him noting the trembles, the tongue swiping over my lips again, and smiled.

"Ah, you don't like me this close, May?" The quarterback's face was so adjacent that his own skins warmth vibrated off mine. "That hurts me." Any other women in my current position would be swooning, pupils dilated for an entirely different reason. The thought of being signaled out from all the other beauties on tall tan legs; honored they'd probably wistfully say. But Jackson disgusted me, and, vice versa. He only harassed me because I was an effortless opportunity for him, and all I could do was sarcastically reply and even then, it was usually by accident, leaving me to mentally curse myself.

 _'With your low self-esteem I'd hope so, that's why you do this, isn't it?'_ To watch Jackson's eye twitch again made my heart come to a dead stop, the color drained from my face. Damn it all, I'd said that aloud, hadn't I? Furious at myself, I bit the inside of my mouth, retaining a look of indifference as blood pooled inside the wet cavern.

Everything stopped as he suddenly shook his head, whipping out a 'sexy' grin that even included hair that mesmerizingly fell into his gaze. "Low self-esteem, good one, May. But we both know who's got the lower one, hm?" That was a painful jab, directed specifically at my need to blend into the background.

His hand's came away from the sides of my head, this was it. I grit my teeth, grinding the molars and preparing myself for the slap. It would sting and certainly burn for the rest of the day, but it would be over. The hands fell to Jackson's side, smile still contained as he looked down at me, eyes glinting as he turned away, leaving me to form a baffled look of confusion. Seriously? Walking away? This was a first, he never merely struck up a conversation that didn't end physically in one way or another.

 _'Must have gotten laid, that's the only reason for such passive behavior.'_ I took a breath, stretching my shoulders back and forth under the heavy winter jacket, watching as Jackson fixed his hair, too frightened to even think of walking away.

"Also," he was stopping, brown leather jacket shining under the dim light of the hall. Dread encased my stomach and my breathing ceased at his lack of movement. "I've got a word of advice for ya. Mind you keep to it, yeah?" My brain was too slow on the uptake to comprehend what occurred next. The open jacket of his swung as the quarterback whirled around, his fist meeting my cheek with a loud crack. Pain engrossed the left side of my face only to be canceled out as the impact brought my head smacking into the brick wall inches behind me. Like so many other days, I saw stars, vision dangerously blurring in a swirl of black and white.

One hand came up to cup the burning cheek, the other clutched onto the wall, keeping me standing up right although the world was twirling in a mad dance of violence. The agony coming from both the front and back of my head transformed into a massive headache as I was left reeling, taking in multiple breaths that shuddered. Holy hell, that damn well, hurt.

Still keeping a firm hold on the wall, I found myself hunched over, staring at the ground with shaking legs. Gritting my teeth, I held back my anger and looked up, finding Jackson still standing before me, his hands in the pockets of the leather jacket. That grin was deadly, those beautiful eyes no longer a facade as he glowered at me.

If there was a layer of playfulness to his look, it vanished as he bent down to my eye level, his hand fisting in the front of my shirt, gripping the collar in a tense grip. Eyes wide, fear overwhelmed me and I became a rag doll as he yanked me against him. His breath hit my face, sending a wave of goosebumps.

"Here's that word of advice: Don't. Talk. Back. Your voice makes my ears bleed, bitch." From our close proximity, I could see the flecks of color in his eyes and I saw the subtext. To him, I was nothing, no one. A waste of space. No one would miss me. Never had I been this frightened before, this was the first time that I couldn't help but fear he'd take it too far and act on those thoughts. Just a few inches and his hands could release the shirt and wrap around my neck. Jackson's hands were big and could probably encircle it twice without problem. I was numb, sweating at the thought, the trembling had ceased, and I'd taken on the stillness of a piece of prey. I dared to take a breath, recoiling inwardly, there was another lingering scent, radiating off him: _blood lust_.

Jackson gave me a quick once-over, taking in the fear with that hunter look and pushed me backward, releasing his hands and backing off. Giving me an impish grin, the quarterback turned and strode away without a care in the world.

Scared shitless, I let out a gasping breath, falling to my knees with a yelp. Each intake of air was strained, shoulders shaking as I fisted my hands, rubbing the tears that proceeded to drip onto the ground. Holy shit that was bad, so so sosososo bad. He would have ended me, I could see it, in those dark pupils, I wasn't anything. To be looked at with that intensity, to feel so open, so naked, so _skinned_. The thoughts were an onslaught, leaving me to breathe heavily, hair hiding my wide-eyed face from view.

Police, they'd know what to . . . no. This was _Jackson_. There were accusations concerning him every day and no matter how much talk there was, he'd never been arrested. Additionally, it never hurt to have a cop for a parent. Both his mom and dad were in the force. Protection, he was the young adult who could do no wrong. He was the bad penny that couldn't help but return.

This was my normality. While others went through life, wishing for something interesting to occur I was stuck with this, this . . . hell, something that most certainly shouldn't be considered _normal_. But, I'll admit, this was the first time I'd feared for my life. Yeah, Jackson was a troublemaker, he and his brother had their hands in everything, and though I'd heard the occasional rumors of what he could do, I'd never seen it up close. Now that I have, I never want to see it again. If I did, it could be my last.

Deep breath. Exhale. Inhale. Repeat.

Repeat, just keep repeating. Keep breathing.

" . . .Come on, get up. Now." Voice full of ice shards I willed myself to struggle up, using the wall as a crutch to aid my rise. Hair stuck to my gaping mouth that still desperately rasped, dragging in each breath, searching for salvation.

Pushing the long hair out of my eyes, I gave a look around-still empty-and hurried down the rest of the hall, going in the opposite way that Jackson had taken. Racing down the staircase, desperate the rid myself of the building. It was crushing me, coming in on all sides, cutting off the air the closer the front door became. The longer I remained inside these walls, the higher the possibility of me running into Jackson again.

No longer able to breathe I bolted, hands madly grasping onto the bar across the door, cold metal stinging the sweaty palms as I yanked it down. The simple sound of the door opening made me erratic, hissing when it didn't open fast enough.

Free of the building I ran out, a greeting of winter air met my face, snow catching in my open mouth like candy. It was freezing but I was smiling. The cold air a bliss. I came to a stop before the icy stairs that coincided with the road below, closing both eyes and allowing the elements of winter seep into my bones and brain. Damn, I needed this, the cold was basically a drug to my system, wiping away the fear and presenting me with an escape of numbness.

The snow wrapped around me, building its version of a jacket across my own, turning the black jacket white. I could feel it forming a layer over my hair, making it firm but not all that different from the already platinum hair.

The high didn't last long, however.

"MAY!" Trance broken, my eyes snapped open and out of sheer reflex, I took a small step, sliding on pure ice. With a small yelp, I slid, catching myself on the railing right before I could fall down the entire staircase.

Finding a fraction of balance, I looked out towards the snow-covered lawn, spotting two figures making their way towards me. The left one's gait stretched far due to long, spindly legs, easily able to keep pace with the other whose pace had relatively quickened.

"You're late!" The first to stop was the shorter of the two; young and pleasant on the eyes, Gwen held an air of superiority, although her snarky childish attitude did nothing to hold up the argument. She was all smiles, chestnut hair curling out from under an ebony beanie as the brunet wrapped bony arms around her small chest. That smile averted to that of annoyance, blinking to meet my eyes with a huff of frosted air from bright lips colored in crimson lipstick. Her eyes beheld a haunted look, whereas underneath was recognition, whether she knew or not, I wouldn't be surprised if the brunet had already guessed the reason for my being late. "You better have a good explanation, girly girl. Or we're gonna have a problem real quick, here and now." Good nature aside, I read between the lines, taking her silent question into account. _Where the hell were you?_ That was Gwen for you, she always had to be in the know, no matter how trivial the subject.

Instead of replying, my attention span stopped at Gwen's shadow. With a height of 6'3, Jo resembled a skyscraper, watching the world from high up with a forever bored expression. On rare occasions, he'd crack a smile, but today it was nothing more than a straight-lipped look, dark mocha colored eyes turned up to me for once. He was silent, forever the watchful specter. The perfect follower.

With an anniversary of two years, I'd come to know Jo quite well, when he wasn't being a living statue. If people thought I was a nobody, then Jo literally didn't exist in this life. No one ever seemed to acknowledge his presence, not even the professors noticed him. Didn't I say a living statue? That couldn't be more accurate. But, Jo being Jo, he didn't bat an eyelash at the prospect. To be ignored and forgotten was his normality. Sounded pretty chill compared to my own, wonder what it would be like to switch for a day.

Those soulless mocha eyes carefully watched my descent, in which I quickly found myself craning my neck in order to retain eye contact. Coming to a stop before them, not uttering a single sound, Jo gave me a nod of greeting. His eyes darted to Gwen who stood in front of him before meeting my gaze with furrowed eyebrows. That look. Something was up.

Keeping full eye contact, Jo crossed his arms and gave the sign, the left index tapped his upper arm. Once. Twice. Thrice. The sign that meant something was up and based on the constant eye pointing to Gwen I could only assume it had something to do with her. But what? What was wrong?

Turning my attention back to Gwen, I found her glaring, her annoyance only spiked at the blank expression I gave her. "I'm waiting!" Oh yeah, she wanted to know the reason behind the unacceptable five minutes I'd kept them waiting. Five minutes, most certainly the end of the world by any means.

"I left you waiting for five mins and you're ready to tear my head off?" I sighed, scratching the back of my head, giving me a sense of security. Even so, I still couldn't help the urge of checking over my shoulder for Jackson.

Gwen's face turned an interesting shade of scarlet giving me the incentive to continue just to ease her growing anger. "Your precious five minutes were spent on a rather abrupt meeting with Jackson, sorry, it was unavoidable." To combat her own look, I wrapped arms around my chest and sulked, glowering at her miserably. I could care less if she saw how much this actually got to me. How my stomach had turned, how scared I'd been. How I'd feared for my life. Maybe she'd actually be sympathetic for once. Truly sympathetic.

The scarlet eradicated itself from the brunet's gaunt face, disappearing from the bony cheekbones, much like curtains being pulled back. Any second now and she'd knit those perfectly formed eyebrows together, bite that bottom lip-just enough not to smudge the lipstick-and express her sorrow for me. Maybe even ask what she cou-

"Isn't that the eleventh time this month?" She hummed, "Jackson must be having a good month if that's all he's done." I only stared at her, expression unchanging. "I swear to you, he's being this way just cause he likes you." The snort that nearly escaped Jo made me stare at him. Using his rare emotion card, he rolled his eyes, both of us seeming to agree that Jackson liking me, wasn't the case. Why did I ever think she'd be sympathetic? My brain _must_ be part masochistic.

Gwen thinking that violence meant attraction wasn't as random and weird as one would think. She'd had a peculiar past when it came to relationships. Some were abusive, others domestic, and all for sport-she'd wear them until they broke and move on. Settle and ongoing relationships weren't in her vocabulary. Not to mention that neither gender was safe from her sexual urges. In my eyes, she was worse than any other disease when it came to using others for personal desires. Gwen turned my stomach more than Jackson could-if that was possible-and yet I forever clung to her, like an addict to their drug. Jo unconsciously did the same. We both clung, comprehending that Gwen was the only one to regard us in a positive light.

"But that's the past, there's a reason I wanted to talk to you." Fingering the bottom of my jacket, I patiently waited. This would have to be what Jo was silently referring to beforehand. I tensed, already uncomfortable at my suspicion. "There's gonna be a party tonight at Cass' place. I'm going, and I'm bringing you both along." The brunet balanced on the balls of her feet, a grin wide upon her lips.

"The word party clearly doesn't fit in that context, Gwen. We're talking a rave." A sigh of disgust left me, eyes rolling to peer up at the bright gray sky, it would snow later.

The brunet steeled herself at my obvious distaste. I knew well that she'd caught the silent decline to her demand. Rave or party, to me, there wasn't much difference. One way or another, I loathed both equally. I found little to no joy in the act of getting drunk and sleeping around with strangers was highly distasteful.

"Fine, it's a rave, May. But it'll be fun. You _have_ to come . . . for me?" _'_ _Oh God.'_ Pulling the sympathy card just like that? I looked down at her, noting our difference in height. "Come on, you made me even wait for you today! And after you promised that you'd come right after class!" _'Well,'_ I thought, _'_ _there must be something special about this one. She's actually trying to guilt trip me.'_

"Give me one good reason." This was pushing my normality a bit. Like Jo, following Gwen around was natural, it was safe to be around someone who could see you. Prove that, in some mixed up way, you actually mattered. But, today, I was fed up with everything. Jackson had pushed first, so much so that I was starting to wonder if bad luck would surely follow me around today. If my ordinary was being threatened then something bad might actually occur.

The look of utter shock on the brunet's face surprised me, she was taken aback by my sudden nerve to talk back and question her. Jo was watching from up above, his own shock professionally masked, I wonder what the top of our heads looks like from his perspective?

"Oh, I'll give you a reason." Frowning, Gwen stepped forward, effortlessly entering my bubble. This was the second time today and I undoubtedly wasn't enjoying it. "You're fucking going, cause tomorrow, bright and early, I'm going back to Michigan for the holidays." Things were beginning to make sense. "And God help me, you're gonna go and spend time with me tonight." There was no room for discussion in the way Gwen craned her head up, a frown tight over her bony complexion. Our faces were inches apart, glares even in their intensity.

"Bright and early?" She wanted me to return with an attack. Demand my right to say no. But it was her last night . . . my best bet would be to try and retain something-anything other than a rave. "Tonight wouldn't be a good night to get hammered if you're leaving early, why not do something else instead? Why not a movie or din-" The brunet shook her head, defiant as ever. Childish, as I've said, I stand by that. She wouldn't budge, there was nothing I could do or say.

Mentally deflating, I met Jo's gaze. He was soundless, motionless and yet I could see, that he too, didn't want to go. But he'd also been talked into going, no room to back out. Like it or not, we were all in this together. "Fine, you win Gwen. But do not expect me to be there long." The anger that created wrinkles in their wake disappeared as Gwen grinned at the yield. She earned a frown when giving my cheek a couple of pats.

"So glad that you managed to see things my way." Her way translated to the one and only road. I would hate to see what she'd do if either of us stuck with reluctance and dismissal. Perhaps she'd resort to force?

Still grinning to herself, Gwen caught my left arm and Jo's right, twirling her own around both like a viper. When we were literally wrapped around her fingers, she gave a nod and waltzed us down the snow covered path. We were nothing more than a chain, centered around the brunet, our drug, our necessity. But, in reality, neither Jo nor I were happy.

* * *

The cavern's silence was interrupted quite abruptly by two pairs of footsteps. Side by side they went, the smell of death heavy on their backs as they each heaved a rotten corpse. Behind them, early morning light spilled in from the outside world, trying in vain to reach the hidden secrets that clung to the men. It only caught onto their capes, one black with red clouds, the other long and dark purple-the angular shadows swiftly swallowed them whole.

Taking a deep breath, the man in the purple cloak stopped at one of the kanji circles and placed the body into it-careful to keep all limbs within the boundaries of the circle. Straightening back to his full height, he peered through the eyes of his white mask at the body he'd brought. It was nearly a year old by now, the skin mostly disintegrated, what was left clung defiantly to the bones. Dead or not, the man recognized the small tufts of red hair that clung to the rotting skull. To think this one had strived to be immortal, maybe he could have succeeded if granted more time.

"Zetsu, are you positive that this will work?" Not one to normally doubt the other, Madara couldn't help feeling doubtful when he caught sight of maggots writhing inside the corpses' ribcage. He sniffed lightly, looking up and over his shoulder, finding the white and black being not far behind him. The thing they held could hardly be considered a body, chunks of flesh that, at one time, had been tan arms and legs-were thinly connected to a ravaged torso by thick string like appendages. Kakuzu. It was a wonder that he'd retained any kind of human shape after the dissection the Leaf had put him through. Little to say, Zetsu hadn't been able to collect much when it was all said and done. But, the ritual would work with what little they'd managed to acquire.

Remaining silent, Zetsu placed the body parts into the circle, keeping light on his feet so not to accidentally smear the blood.

Finally, it was White Zetsu who answered. "You really should stop worrying." Pulling a shriveled heart from one the pockets within his cloak, the white being placed it besides the altered limbs. Unconsciously, he licked his lips before turning towards Madara, flashing him a comforting smile.

Seeing Zetsu's undying faith was enough for the leader of the Akatsuki to nod, a weight lifting somewhat from his shoulders. Still, Madara couldn't fully erase the doubt within him. He knew that it would remain until the ritual was over with.

 **"Ugh, I can't believe you're still worried over this, _Obito_."** Madara nearly flinched at the name, gritting his teeth instead. **"Kabuto said it would work. Not to mention the week we took to test it ourselves. It'll be fine, so please, can we just get on with it?"** Black Zetsu huffed, voice abounding with exasperation. The Akatsuki leader knew well that the black being was sick and tired of the entire ordeal. To be honest, they all were. With the upcoming war, Kabuto's sudden change in allegiance, and finding bits of the dead Akatsuki members-all three of them were ready for the finale.

Normally calm, cool, and collected, Madara was tense at the prospect of returning his full attention to the war once this was done. Truly, there wasn't much for him to worry about, the Gedo statue was coming along nicely and their numbers had greatly increased after Kabuto decided to partner up with the Akatsuki. It was going so well that Madara had half a mind to think that god had taken a liking to his organization.

They'd have reanimated ninja from every village thanks to Kabuto, however, Madara couldn't help but desire more man-power, just in case. Similar to the snake, the Akatsuki leader's ace was six feet under-well, some of them, more often than not, they were extremely difficult to obtain. A perfect example would be Deidara, who had killed himself by using his suicidal jutsu. Thanks to that, there hadn't been anything left of the body. Both Zetsu and Madara had nearly given up when they'd stumbled onto Kakuzu's belongings. The older Akatsuki member had kept some skin and blood after stitching Deidara's arms back on-just in case. Smart old fool.

Their deaths, at the time, hadn't been that surprising to the Akatsuki leader, but now, the organization needed their members back. Living members, unlike the corpses that Madara found himself staring down on.

"Is everything ready?" He sounded calm, but that doubt still clouded the inner workings of his mind. Black Zetsu hadn't been lying, they'd already tested it earlier on a random corpse they'd found. It had worked and, thanks to Zetsu, the ninja was dead once more. The ritual would work. He needed to stop this fog of ambiguity.

"Yes, let us just get into position." Madara was silent as the Zetsu's pulled apart, their white and black sides melting away from each other in slow motion. He took a deep breath, widened his stance and waited with hands raised, ready for the ritual to begin.

As soon as Zetsu had become two different beings, they went to their own side of the cavern, composing a triangle with Madara at the tip. Nodding in unison the hand signs began. Three pairs of hands sped through the motions, in perfect sync with each other. Not long after, the bloody kanji began radiating and the Akatsuki leader felt chakra zap between the three individuals as the ritual began the reanimation. The air was tense with chakra and Madara smiled when the red light spread upwards, engulfing the middle of the room with remorse. A ringing overtook the air and the light crept across the ground, tendrils reaching towards the three men, sensing their chakra.

When the light nearly reached his toes, Madara took a few steps back, tired from the amount of chakra he'd had to use for the ongoing ritual. Stilling his hands, the Akatsuki leader watched the red light, dance before him. Somewhere inside that, the bones were strengthening, skin reappearing, and eyes opening to realize that they were alive.

With both Kabuto's reanimation and Madara's Akatsuki members, this war would be an easy win. Not to mention the other cards hidden up the Akatsuki leader's sleeves. The villages wouldn't know what hit them.

Chuckling to himself, Madara tiredly wrapped his arms around his chest. He was very confident in both the plan and in himself.

_-Thump-_

Eyes widening, the Akatsuki leader froze.

_-Th-Thump-_

Under the mask, Madara smiled. One of the members was awake inside that light. Which one? If he were to bet, it would probably b-

Just as he was about to think of the name, something touched his back with supreme force. Stumbling to catch onto anything, Madara fell face first into the red light. Hot and cold tore the mask right off his face, pins and needles stabbing into every limb with consistency. The red light burned wide open eyes, pain tearing and reforming all the bones in his body. Pain and blindness were all the Akatsuki leader knew before he blacked out.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, dear readers! This is my first time posting on AO3; I keep a usual residence on Fanfiction where all my stories currently are.  
> This is actually the rewritten version to my original, so bare with me, updates might take awhile. I do hope you are enjoying the story so far and will await my next update.  
> *bows* Good day to you all~
> 
> -Jinx of the desert


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